a bishop, said "Yes, my
lady," in that dry tone which implied that for twenty years the house of
Dunstable had been built upon himself, as its rock, and he was not going
to fail it now. He vanished, with just one lightning turn of the eyes
towards the little lady in the blue linen dress; and Lady Dunstable
resumed her walk, sunk in flushed meditation. She seemed to have
forgotten Doris, when she heard an exclamation:--

"Ah, there _is_ the telegram!"

And Doris, running to the window, waved to a diminutive telegraph boy,
who, being new to his job, had come up to the front entrance of the
Lodge instead of the back, and was now--recognising his
misdeed--retreating in alarm from the mere aspect of "the great
fortified post." He saw the lady at the window, however, and checked his
course.

"For me!" cried Doris, triumphantly--and she tore it open.

Can't arrive till between eight and nine. Think I have got all we
want. Please take a room for me at hotel.--ALICE WIGRAM.

Doris turned back into the room, and handed the telegram to Lady
Dunstable, who read it slowly.

"Did you say this was the Alice Wigram I knew?"

"Her father had one of your livings," repeated Doris. "He died last
year."

"I know. I quarrelled with him. I cannot conceive why Alice Wigram
should do me a good turn!" Lady Dunstable threw back her head, her
challenging look fixed upon her visitor. Doris was certain she had it in
her mind to add--"or you either!"--but refrained.

"Lord Dunstable was always a friend to her father," said Doris, with the
same slight emphasis on the "Lord" as before. "And she felt for the
estate--the poor people--the tenants."

Rachel Dunstable shook her head impatiently.

"I daresay. But I got into a scrape with the Wigrams. I expect that you
would think, Mrs. Meadows--perhaps most people would think, as of course
her father did--that I once treated Miss Wigram unkindly!"

"Oh, what does it matter?" cried Doris, hastily,--"what _does_ it
matter? She wants to help--she's sorry for you. You should _see_ that
woman! It would be too awful if your son was tied to her for life!"

She sat up straight, all her soul in her eyes and in her pleasant face.

There was a pause. Then Lady Dunstable, whose expression had changed,
came a little nearer to her.

"And you--I wonder why you took all this trouble?"

Doris said nothing. She fell back slowly in her chair, looking
at the tall woman standing over her. Tears came i